"Well, I reckon I can figure that out for myself," said Mr. Albertson.
But in this instance--perhaps the only one of his long and successful career--he was wrong. He could not figure out why it was Pearl objected so violently to allowing that letter to be read.
The reason was this: She had always promised Augusta that she would communicate her first impressions of Mr. Wood, and as soon as he and his sister left the house to go to Miss Wellington's she had run upstairs, and on the much-used typewriter she hastily ticked out a prose lyric on the subject of her meeting with the only man she ever could have or ever had loved. It began:
My dear, he came this afternoon. Why didn't you tell me what he was like? Oh, I know you said he was attractive. Attractive!
He's incredible! He's devastating! And that voice! You never said a word about that voice, which makes me shake every time he speaks--like a telegraph wire in a wind. Oh, Augusta, isn't it silly? But I think I love him----
To be continued...
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